by Lynn Kurland
And then Baldwin stopped. With his sword upraised, he turned in surprise. Robin leaped to his feet, looking about him frantically for his dagger.
But it was unnecessary.
Anne stood there, trembling but holding her ground. Baldwin looked at her, then his sword slipped from his hand. He slowly began to fall toward her. She jumped backward awkwardly in time to have him fall at her feet.
There was a blade buried to the hilt in his back.
Robin stepped over Edith’s remains and dragged Anne a few paces away, then hauled her in his arms.
“Are you hurt?” he asked frantically.
She shook her head and clung to him, trembling.
“By the saints, a man could not ask for a finer woman to guard his back,” Robin said, with feeling. “He would have killed me, else.”
“M-my p-p-pleasure.” Her teeth were chattering. “D-don’t ask m-me to d-do it ag-gain.”
He laughed in spite of himself. “Pray that we never have another need, lady, but ’twas very well done.”
He stood there with his love in his arms and felt a great wave of relief wash over him. They were safe. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek atop Anne’s head.
“’Tis finished,” he whispered.
Anne nodded. “Edith planned it, Robin. She told me as much.”
“I should have listened to you.”
“You should have listened to me about a great many things.”
He pulled back and scowled down at her. “Did you truly know?”
“About your sire? Aye.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“Would you have listened?”
“Of course not,” Robin said. He looked up as the rest of their little group shuffled over to them. He met Nicholas’s gaze and received an answering look of irritation. “I’ll kill him,” Robin growled.
“I’ll help,” Nicholas said. “Give me time to heal, so we may do a thorough job of it.”
“Think you he knows?” Robin demanded of Anne. “And how is this possible?”
“The usual way, I suspect,” Nicholas said dryly. “And if you don’t know what that is, you’re in more trouble than I thought.”
“I know very well how ’twas accomplished,” Robin snapped. “I just want to know for a certainty when.”
“Hmmm,” Nicholas said. “We might just discover that I am the eldest.”
“Ha,” Robin said, but the very thought of that pierced him to the quick. He looked at Nicholas. “Think you?”
“That would be a question for your father,” Anne said. She was smiling, damn her. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“I fully intend to,” Robin growled.
She waited. “Well, go ahead.”
He cursed her, but she only continued to smile.
“Go on,” she said, pointing behind him. “There he is.”
Robin turned around to see none other than Rhys de Piaget, the bloody bastard, standing behind him, looking rather green. Robin decided words could be had later in abundance, as well as questions as to why Rhys found himself at that very moment standing in Artane’s bailey. Now was the time for action. He launched himself at his sire, determined to throttle the life from the man.
“You knew!” Robin bellowed, taking his father down to the dirt. “You knew and you never said anything!”
“Robin!” his mother exclaimed. “Release him!”
Robin clutched his sire about the throat and pounded his head against the dirt a time or two for good measure. “Damn you!” he shouted.
And then, quite suddenly, he found himself on his back with Rhys’s substantial self pinning him there. Robin snarled out a curse or two, but realized that his father—damn him to hell a thousand times—was still every bit his equal in size and strength.
And no wonder.
What with him being his sire and all.
Robin glared at his mother. “You knew as well!”
And damn her if she didn’t look just as sheepish as her husband.
“Why didn’t you tell me!” Robin demanded. “Damn you both!”
He had to curse, for he realized, with a start, that if he didn’t continue to snarl and bellow, he quite likely would break down and sob. All the years he had spent cursing the fact that he was Alain of Ayre’s son and not Rhys de Piaget’s. All the times he had turned himself inside out to prove he was worthy of being Rhys’s adopted heir. All that time and energy and effort. And for what?
Well, he had to concede that it had served him well, but he’d be damned if he’d admit it.
Rhys rolled off him and hauled Robin to his feet. He frowned.
“I wasn’t sure—”
“Merde,” Robin snarled.
“Very well,” Rhys returned hotly, “I wanted it desperately and then by the time I was quite sure and I dared discuss the matter with your mother, you were already my heir anyway and what purpose would it have served?”
“I would have known I was yours!” Robin bellowed, then he realized he sounded like a child of five summers. He glared at his sire. “It would have been nice to have known.”
“It makes no difference,” Rhys insisted.
“It makes a difference to me!”
“It makes you a bastard!” Rhys exclaimed, then he shut his mouth with a snap and glared at Robin.
Robin felt his jaw slide down. And then he heard someone begin to laugh. He looked over at Nicholas and watched as his brother shuffled over and flung his arm around Robin’s shoulders.
“Ah,” he said with a last weak chuckle, “what a special kinship we have, Rob. Bastards both.”
“I should thrash the both of you for your cheek,” Rhys said sternly. “This is hardly talk for the field.”
Robin could only stare at first his sire—his true sire, no less—then at his mother.
“I am having the most difficult time taking this in,” he said finally. He looked for his wife. “And you?”
Anne smiled as she came and stood at his other side and put her arm around his waist.
“I love you whatever and whoever you are.”
Robin grunted, then looked at his mother. “You could have told me. And how was this accomplished? Do you not think I deserve to know?”
“We could discuss it inside,” Rhys said pointedly.
“Nay,” Robin said. “I was married with a corpse at my heels, I may as well learn my parentage with a pair of them cooling behind me. Please, give me the tale.”
Rhys looked at Gwen. “Well, wife. Go ahead. Give him the tale.”
“Coward,” she said fondly.
He grunted, then put his arm around her. “I wed her in my heart the night before she was forced to marry Alain of Ayre.”
“Are you certain he’s the elder?” Nicholas asked pleasantly.
Robin elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Continue, if you please.”
“Aye, I’m quite certain,” Rhys said, glaring at Nicholas, “for unlike you two randy stallions, I was a virgin before I took my lady to my bed.”
Robin gaped at his sire. “You weren’t.”
“I certainly was.”
“How did you manage that?” Nicholas asked in admiration.
“I loved Gwen from my youth and vowed if I could not have her, I would have no one.” He looked at Robin. “And so I made her mine. And then those bloody Fitzgeralds filled me full of drink and when next I woke, your mother was wed to another and I was abed with,” he looked at Nicholas, “um, well, your dam. And I knew nothing more of her until she died and we found you.”
“Well,” Robin said, blinking.
“Aye,” Nicholas said, sounding just as surprised.
“And I don’t regret either,” Rhys growled, “and if you care to face me over blades to satisfy yourselves, I’ll be happy to oblige you.”
“You could have told us,” Nicholas pointed out. “I already knew I was a bastard.”
Rhys shook his head. “I could not have loved you more, even if I had not sir
ed either of you. I saw no point.”
“And now we know?” Robin asked.
“Will you have the entire isle know you’re a bastard?”
“That depends,” Miles put in. “Do I inherit all now?”
Robin gaped at his brother until he realized Miles was not in earnest. Rhys only glared at his other son, then looked at Amanda. He sobered.
“I fear, daughter, that I have no such startling revelations for you.”
Nicholas put his arm around Amanda and pulled her over to lean on her. “It looks as if you and I are the only ones unrelated, sister dear.”
“The saints have looked on me kindly then,” she said, scowling up at him.
Nicholas only laughed and kissed her forehead. “You love me and you know it well.” He looked at his sire. “Well, if you’ve no more interesting tidbits for us, I’m returning to bed.” He made Robin a shaky bow. “My gratitude, brother, for ridding the keep of our foul murderers. I’ll hear the entire tale when I’m more myself. Amanda, let me lean on you and help me back to the healer’s house. Too much excitement in one day has completely sapped my strength.”
Robin watched his brother, his very real brother mind you, slowly and painfully make his way back to the inner bailey. He looked at his mother to find her looking at him with something akin to compassion.
“Are you so very angry?” she asked quietly.
He sighed. “I’ll survive it.”
“We didn’t think it would serve you.”
Robin looked at his sire. “And you? What’s your excuse?”
“I don’t need an excuse. I’m your father and I can still thrash you on any field.”
Robin found himself pulled suddenly into his sire’s arms and crushed in an embrace from which he wasn’t sure he would emerge intact.
“I’m proud you’re mine,” Rhys said hoarsely. “No matter how the deed came about in the beginning.”
Robin slapped his father’s back several times, then pulled away. “Then I may still stretch forth my greedy hands for all your lands and gold when you die?”
Rhys looked at Gwen. “This is your fault, this greed of his. I never had such lust for land.”
“Ha,” Gwen said, poking him firmly in the chest with her finger. “’Tis a flaw that runs entirely in your family.”
“Why are you home?” Robin interrupted.
“Thugs tried to slay me on a little outing,” Rhys said. “I caught one, beat Sedgwick’s name from him, and we returned home as quickly as we could. Would have been here sooner if we hadn’t been swarmed by your grandmother’s bloody artistes.”
“I didn’t need aid,” Robin said stiffly.
“Never thought you would,” Rhys returned. “I just didn’t want to miss out on a chance to watch you thrash Baldwin. If ever anyone deserved it, ’twas him.”
“But Edith,” Gwen said, with a shake of her head. “Tragic, truly.”
“Not if you’d been here the past month,” Robin said grimly. He looked at his sire. “Well, since you’re here, Anne and I will be off.”
“We will?” Anne asked.
“Aye,” Robin said shortly. “To the shore.”
“We’re not staying,” Rhys said.
“We aren’t?” Gwen asked, sounding very unenthusiastic about another journey.
“Your mother requires our presence,” Rhys said, sounding equally as unenthusiastic about another journey—especially if it seemed to include Segrave as a destination. “Once she learns of what we’ve just discussed—and I’ve no doubt she’ll hear of it before we’ve a chance to tell her—I will never have another decent meal at her table. Besides,” he said, reaching out to clap Robin on the shoulder, “my son is perfectly capable of seeing to my hall.” He smiled at Gwen. “Think you?”
“Damn,” Miles muttered. “So much for my inheriting everything.”
Robin made a few gruff noises to cover something he couldn’t identify as either relief of joy, then he embraced his father, embraced his mother, and looked at his wife.
“I’m still for the shore, lady. What say you?”
“As you will,” she said, but she looked as if the prospect didn’t displease her.
Robin smiled his sunniest smile at her, then realized that he had more to do than run off without another thought. He turned and looked at the fallen siblings behind him. He shook his head, then went to pull his sword from Edith’s body. He laid her on her back and closed her eyes. A shadow fell over him and he looked to find his sire kneeling across from him.
“A troubled girl,” Rhys said quietly.
“She wanted Artane,” Robin said. “Nothing but Artane.”
“Can you blame her?” Rhys asked with a faint smile.
“I don’t know that I’d kill for it,” Robin answered with just as faint a smile. “’Tis but a pile of stones, after all.”
“Home is a different place entirely,” Rhys agreed.
Robin looked at Anne and suddenly felt everything in his world shift. It settled into a peaceful, serene place and he knew without a doubt that as long as he had her by his side, the place most certainly didn’t matter.
But she did love the shore.
And Artane was right there on the coast.
Robin clapped his father on the shoulder. “I’ll take your keep, Papa,” he said.
“And my gold, no doubt,” Rhys groused.
“I won’t spend it all whilst you’re away.”
“We aren’t leaving quite yet,” Rhys said. “I’ve a mind to talk to my steward and see what havoc you’ve wreaked. I understand there was a fair gathering here the past se’nnight. Is there perchance aught left in my larder?”
Robin rose. “I’ll see you about it tomorrow. I’ve other business to attend to this day.”
“Don’t mind this,” Rhys said dryly, gesturing expansively before him. “I’ll see to it.”
“Consider it a wedding gift to me,” Robin said.
“I already gave you a bloody wedding gift and as you remember it was almost everything I have!”
“Damn,” Miles grumbled loudly.
Robin smiled at his brother, gathered up his lady, and began to make his way across the lists.
“They look happy,” came his father’s voice.
“Are they happy?” his mother asked from behind them.
“Aye, and their ��happiness’ has ruined my sleep for almost a se’nnight,” Miles complained loudly. “Let us be grateful they’re making for Robin’s tent where they won’t keep the rest of us awake tonight.”
Robin looked at Anne and felt himself begin to blush. “Sorry,” he whispered.
She only put her arm around his waist and hugged him. “They’ll survive it.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Are you happy?”
“Deliriously. Giddy, even, now that I have the peace to enjoy it. And for that I thank you kindly.”
“’Twas nothing.”
“Nay, my love, ’twas a very great thing requiring much skill and courage.”
“You would have done the same for me. Indeed, I’ll wager you were trying.”
Robin shivered once. “It was a passing close thing, Anne. I about fell over in a faint when I saw her standing with her blade across your throat.” He looked at her. “You may tell me again that I was wrong, if you like.”
She shook her head with a smile. “I’ll just savor it in silence.”
He snorted, but couldn’t help a smile. “I love you,” he said as they made their way to the stables. “And I you.”
Robin walked up the way to the inner bailey with his lady wife at his side and smiled to himself. He could scarce believe that not two months earlier he had come home expecting to bolt from it the first chance he got.
Now it looked as if he might never have to leave. And as he listened to the distant roar of the waves and smelled the tang of sea air trickling through the bailey, he couldn’t imagine anything else. He had a marvelous hall to watch over and a beautiful, courageous woman who loved it
as much as he did. And she loved him as well. He looked at his lady wife and smiled.
Life without her? Never.
Eternity with her?
Aye, and then some.
He shook his head with a smile and continued on his way.
Epilogue
The woman stood at the door of the healer’s house and stared out over the courtyard, eyeing the dirt and flat-laid stone. Her mind spun with the things she had learned that morn of herbs and such. She had found a goodly work to do, and an unexpected one at that. But it behooved her to learn a bit of healing, given that she was at least for the moment looked to as Artane’s lady. It had been a morn of many surprises.
For she had learned yet another thing that would surely change her life’s course.
She was to bear a child come spring.
She looked at the distance separating her from the great hall and, judging the distance to be not unmanageable, released the doorframe and carefully descended the steps to the stone path that led to the great hall.
The weak autumn sunlight glinted off her pale hair and off the gold embroidery adorning her dark green cloak. The latter was a gift from her love, for green was one of his preferred colors.
“How fares the fairest flower in Artane’s garden this morn?”
The voice from behind her startled her, and she turned quickly to look at who spoke. And then she smiled.
“I doubt I am the fairest flower in the garden,” she said, but the saying of it did not pain her.
“You are the fairest flower in my garden,” her lord said, putting his arm about her shoulders and pulling her close. “Is not my opinion the one that matters the most?”
She had no argument for that, so she merely smiled in reply and walked with him to the great hall. He matched his mounting of the steps to her pace, then opened the door for her with a low bow.
“After you, my lady.”
“How gallant you are, my lord.”
“You’ll avoid letting on about that to anyone else, of course.”
“Of course. Your reputation is at stake.”